Don't Feel Bad
by Hallucifer
Summary: Though many wouldn't blame him for giving up, Bruce is determined to make his own way in life despite everything. Tony is having none of it. Possible implied Bruce/Tony


**Don't Feel Bad**

**By GhostOfRattmann**

He was late on the rent again. This wasn't the first time, but his evasion techniques were wearing a little thin and his usual routine of downgrading to a smaller, more shabby flat like the past six times wasn't really plausible when he was already in the _most _small and shabby flat possibly available.

He felt bad about it, really. He was a good guy, he liked to believe, despite... Obvious issues. But he felt each man should pay his way. He didn't like scrounging or trying to avoid responsibilities. Once upon a time he'd been organised, independent and something else that might have been happy.

He guessed he wasn't really the problem, but the other guy was. Hulks weren't the most efficient of creatures when it came to sorting out everyday living.

Emptying every last thing he had out of his pockets, he tossed the contents on the small wooden table in front of him: fifty-three dollars and sixty-eight cents, a rubber band and a slightly bent card with a printed name and phone number in gold ink, accompanied by the 'Stark Industries' logo in the top right hand corner.

The rent was seventy dollars, and that was just for last week, not counting the three days of this week that had already crept up on him. He sighed, wondering what his boss would say if he asked for an advance on wages _again_. The risk of getting fired probably wasn't worth it. Then again, the pay was hardly worth it, but there weren't many job lacking in stress enough he dared to take.

Tony had offered him a job, of course. But Bruce knew he had just been being kind, surely. Besides, accepting charity wasn't really his style. Worse still was that Tony had offered him a place to live, rent-free and without even _taking_ the job. "I told you," he'd said. "My place is like candy land and I don't mind sharing my sweets with people who can appreciate them."

Bruce had smiled, but politely declined.

Despite that, Tony had insisted they still meet up from time-to-time, so they'd scheduled a coffee date in a nearby cafe, which soon turned into a weekly event. Bruce, already strapped for cash at that time, had worried the novelty would be too much of an expense, but when he showed up that first time, Tony had paid without even asking. In fact, Tony always paid. He'd paid for Shawarma with the other Avengers, too. Tony just seemed to like paying for things.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was nearing time for their weekly meet-up and that damn clock was always running slow anyway so he really better get going.

Gathering up the items for the table once more, he shrugged on his jacket- a little worn and threadbare but still enough to keep him warm- and headed out. He kept quiet on the stairs, careful to avoid the landlord as much as possible, and more specifically the interrogation over when he was getting this weeks (and last weeks) rent.

* * *

Tony was already waiting for him when he arrived, sat at a two-seater table with a coffee and another already ordered for Bruce. He had that fancy phone- at least Bruce though it was a phone- in one hand, thumb tapping away, before he paused and looked up at him.

"At last! I thought maybe you were out with the other guy instead and he'd rudely forgotten our arrangement." If Steve had been here, he would have gaped and spluttered at that comment before reminding Tony in a whisper about appropriateness. Not that Tony would have cared. Tony seemed to _like _joking about these things. Sometimes Bruce even felt he liked to joke about them, too. Or maybe just listen to Tony joke about them. Or maybe just listen to Tony, full stop.

Choking out a laugh, he pulled back the chair and took his seat opposite. "Sorry, my clock runs slow."

"Mine doesn't," Tony replied cheerily. "Satellite time. And if it ever did run slow then I'd have to tell JARVIS off for slacking on his duties."

Bruce laughed, because around Tony, you just couldn't _help_ but laugh.

"Nice to see you smiling, Banner." Tony sipped his drink, though his eyes were fixed on him, watching with that studious look he got when analyzing a new design for possible issues, or trying to see how he could conserve energy on this latest update plan. "What's wrong, Bruce?"

Bruce sighed and wished he were less obvious with his emotions. All those hours of self-control and therapy sessions and he still couldn't so much as keep the worry off his face.

"Nothing major," he insisted, waving a hand dismissively. "Bit of trouble with the rent. Don't worry about it."

Tony didn't worry about it. Tony didn't really worry about anything. Tony just _dealt_ with things. Bruce sighed.

"Seriously, don't concern yourself."

Tony smiled. "What's that horrid job you took? Cleaner?"

"I'm not a _cleaner! _A _washer-upper_. At that Chinese restaurant downtown."

The smile had turned into a smirk. He sipped his drink again. "_Doctor _Bruce Banner, washing dishes. Tell me, did you include your qualifications on your job application?"

Bruce declined to answer. He hadn't.

Tony positively grinned. "Come on, Bruce, quit the noble act. What's your account number?"

"It's doesn't _matter_. I-"

"Bruce. Account number."

"But-"

"_Bruce."_

He sighed and rattled it off from memory.

Tony was still smiling.

* * *

"You get out and come back when you have my rent. I swear! I'm locking the door until you return with a pile of cash! _My_ cash!"

Nearly tripping over the mat on his way out, Bruce allowed the ranting man to push him out onto the street. As the door slammed shut behind him, he stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed, beginning to walk in the general direction of a bank, as if he really even had time between receiving his wages and paying bills to even _put_ money into his account.

Joining the small queue for the little cash machine in the wall, he fumbled inside his jacket for his wallet, pulling out the silver debit card he hadn't used in months.

He really didn't want to touch the money Tony had apparently put there. Put there _anyway_, despite his many protests and insistences that he wouldn't use it. Unfortunately, he didn't really have much choice anymore, unless the option of sleeping on a park bench suddenly became appealing. Well maybe he'd take out just enough to cover the rest of the rent and then pay Tony back with his next wages. Pay him it _all_ back and tell him he never should have put it there in the first place and that he damn well better forget Bruce's account number.

Reaching the front of the queue, he slid the card into the machine and typed in his PIN.

Despite the chilly air, the sun was shining bright overhead and he had to squint to see the screen, shifting slightly so his shadow covered it and made the numbers more visible.

Bruce just stared. He blinked several times, wondering if the light was distorting his vision.

Eventually an old woman waiting behind him snapped at him to hurry up and he jumped slightly, tapping at the buttons to take out enough to cover the rent. Plus another twenty dollars extra. Maybe he could have something that wasn't a ready meal for dinner tonight.

* * *

"Right. Give me _your_ account number."

"Mine?" Tony questioned with a smile, placing his mug back on the table. "Why ever would you want that?"

Bruce gave him a mildly annoyed look. Only mildly. It was really quite impossible to ever be fully annoyed with Tony Stark, no matter how dark and the look on Steve's face, there was always that hint of fighting a smile as well. "I'm transferring that money back. Well, I took a bit for my rent, but you were insistent on that anyway. But the rest... No. No, I don't need that."

"Neither do I."

"How can anyone _not need_ three millions dollars?"

"Okay, no one can't. So that includes you. _You_ need it."

"No!" He sighed, wrapping both hands tightly around the coffee cup. "Look, I can't take it. It's too much. _Ridiculously _too much. Please, take it back."

"No," Tony replied simply. Still smiling.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He was getting nowhere, really. Tony wouldn't give in, he knew that, really. Tony _never_ gave in, not at least without some compromise.

"I'm not a charity case, really. I can look after myself, you know."

"I know."

"Tony, I feel bad about it. I... I know I don't really have much to offer. Probably nothing. But seriously, if there's any favours or... Or _anything_ you'd want doing, seriously, don't hesitate to ask."

"I wouldn't anyway, Bruce." He sipped his drink.

Head resting on one hand, Bruce stared vaguely across the table, silently marveling at the ease with which Tony did... Anything. Well, life must be pretty damn easy if you had _three million dollars_ to casually give away.

"You said you'd do anything," Tony spoke up suddenly.

Bruce sat up straight and nodded, eager to metaphorically pay his way in gratitude.

Tony smiled some more. "Take the damn job at Stark towers and come move in. Seriously, JARVIS is only interesting for so much conversation and Pepper finds the science-y side of things boring."

Bruce sighed and looked away, glancing lifelessly around the small cafe, before dragging his gaze back to Tony. "And what if I say no?"

Tony grinned. "Then I might just start paying you wages into your account anyway. A few thousand here, another million there. Very generous of me. But I wouldn't want to make you _feel bad_ or anything."

Bruce groaned, shook his head and sighed again. "When do I start?"

If possible, Tony smiled even wider. "Right now. Lunch break just finished."

He stood to leave and Bruce followed, zipping up his jacket as they stepped out onto the busy streets. Walking side-by-side, with Bruce trying to ignore how Tony was basically swaggering along victoriously, he felt the need to say one more thing.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."


End file.
